On
a summer's day in August,
a man came into town.
He rode a big black stallion.
He was dressed in black and brown.
His hair was long and wavy,
pulled back in a ponytail.
His face and hands were leathery from his years on the trail.
He wore a pair of shiny coats,
his belt all filled with lead.
He knew if you were on the run with a price put on your head.
He stopped at the sheriff's office for the news about McBeal.
He was this reckless outlaw and he wanted to make a deal.
Thomas Jones,
Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple bones.
He knows when you've crossed
with the law.
Thomas Jones, Thomas Jones, he collects your
simple bones.
He's the quickest bounty hunter on the draw.
But the sight of Thomas at the door made the sheriff weak.
He knew his reputation well,
so he could hardly speak.
He tracked that outlaw named McBeal straight into the bar.
And folks went mighty quiet.
How could this come so far?
He said, McBeal, your bones are
mine.
I've come to take you in.
Your days of crime are over and it's time to face your sin.
McBeal just laughed and drew his gun.
He didn't mind the law.
Then he drew his final breath.
He
was the slowest on the draw.
Thomas Jones, Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple bones.
He knows when you've crossed with the law.
Thomas Jones,
Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple bones.
He's the quickest bounty hunter on the draw.
So you better learn this lesson.
You better be aware.
Stay on the path of justice.
Be sure if you don't care.
Because if you cross the lines of law,
no one can save your soul.
I'm telling you the honest truth.
You'll face that Thomas Jones.
Thomas Jones, Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple bones.
He knows when you've crossed with the law.
Thomas Jones,
Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple bones.
He's the quickest bounty hunter on the draw.
Thomas Jones, Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple souls.
So your bones, they do belong to Thomas Jones.
Thomas Jones, Thomas Jones,
he collects your simple bones.
So your bones, they do belong to Thomas Jones.